


E.V.O.L

by DrayMortez



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Evil Irene, F/M, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrayMortez/pseuds/DrayMortez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John and Sherlock's seventeen year old son makes a big mistake by interferring with Irene Adler's case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missing

-HAMISH-  
I felt absolutely terrible. I didn’t know how many different kinds of terrible there were on this bloody planet, but I felt each one of them in turn.  
There was that seasick nausea you get when you feel as if you could puke all over the pavement with just one wrong nudge to the side, there was that prodding voice inside your head that keeps repeating itself over and over, (why do you do this to yourself, you tosser) and then, the worst out of everything, is the fact that you just know how disappointed you parents are going to be when they find out what you have done. I mean, most seventeen year old kids my age might be able to let themselves hope that their parents won’t find out. Not mine though. Definitely not when one of your dads is as close to a mind reader as a mere mortal can get. The only thing I can get close enough to crossing my fingers for is that maybe he’ll be too wrapped up in a case at home to notice me when I walk through the door. Of course, what sort of chance do I really have when my other dad just as easily notices when I’m in an off mood or when something has happened at school? I don’t know how he does it, especially since I consider myself to be pretty deceptive when I want to be.  
It’s 10:30 at night and I was supposed to be back at the flat about two hours ago. I’ve diminished all my chances of sneaking through the front door by biding my time. John will be worried sick, calling all his contacts (possibly even Lestrade), and by this time he’ll probably be threatening Sherlock with calling my uncle Mycroft for help. That would certainly capture his attention and they would be in a heated argument before no time.  
No, I didn’t want to go back now. I’d wait it out a little while longer until I felt mentally prepared for the row that the three of us were going to have.  
The air was frostbitten and it blew right through my jacket as I walked in the opposite direction of my home. I stuffed my hands in my jean pockets and hunched my shoulders over just like Sherlock told me not to because it made me look vulnerable and unprepared. I didn’t want to look at anything but my feet though, and I continued on as my trainers got soaked in the puddles I couldn’t see in the dark. I managed to step in one so deep that it splashed and wetted the ankles of my trousers.  
Fuck, I thought. All I wanted to do was go back home to the flat where the dinner John will have made would be cold. Sherlock will have neglected his and I would’ve been able to have two meals to myself because I need all the nourishment I can get. My stomach was complaining now with vicious gurgles and a sitting pain at the bottom. It was almost enough to make me turn back and stop being a total twat to my parents, but my inherent defiance won over and kept me moving forward.  
“Hamish! What’s taking you so long? We’re ready to fucking GOOOO!”  
My friend, (very drunk friend) Kirsty, howled out to me in the night. I could hear the engine of her boyfriend’s car and the blasting music coming from inside it. I jogged up the beaten up piece of scrap metal that I was supposed to trust to ride me around. I slid into the backseat where there were already three other kids from my school squished there. A brunette girl with glasses from my AP Physics class awkwardly maneuvered herself onto my lap. I couldn’t remember her ever being that bold, but I could smell the booze that was basically oozing out of her pores that quickly answered my question. Everyone in the car was already pissed.  
“You gotta keep it down, Kirsty,” I half pleaded over the American rapper’s demanding voice. “My parents might hear us.”  
She turned around in the passenger seat to look at me and I had to stretch my neck around the brunette to catch her gaze.  
“Oh please, Hash. We’re taking off right now. Benny, here, is driving us to a cool spot where we can hang out and not have to worry about fucking shit like parents. Isn’t that right, baby?” She broke eye contact with me to lean over and kiss the grinning driver on the cheek, leaving a red mark from her lipstick. He didn’t even seem to notice.  
I fell back into the leather seat behind me when her boyfriend stomped on the gas and made us speed forward to God knows where. Even though I hadn’t drank anything yet, I still felt disorientated as we turned the corners of London that took us further and further from 221 Baker Street. I grabbed one of the loose beer bottles rattling at my feet and twisted the top off with my T – shirt. I was going to need as much as my body could manage if I was going to be able to forget what I had done prior to this crazy adventure. I was going to have to be puking my guts out if I was going to make myself forget my dads and what they were doing. 

 

-JOHN-  
Sherlock was being infuriating. I always saw the subtext “John, pretty please punch me where it’ll hurt” when he spoke to me, but during a serious circumstance like this where I knew that we couldn't afford to butt heads, it took all of my will power to not give into the notion.  
The fact was that Hamish, our seventeen year old son, was three and a half hours late from spending time with his friends after school. I had talked to him on the phone and told him that he had to be back by at least seven tonight. I had let the first hour of him being missing and not phoning me by mobile slide because I thought that he was just running late or he couldn’t find a ride back. By the second hour I started to get a little nervous. Even Sherlock allowed himself to take his eyes off of my laptop to listen to me voice my worries about Hamish. He didn’t say anything for a while as I spoke and just kept watching me over the screen, but as soon as I mentioned phoning in the police he shook his head at me.  
“It can’t be investigated as a missing person until he has been gone for at least twenty – four hours,” he said.  
“Yes, but we can still phone in our concerns to Greg, can’t we?” I frowned, unsure of the whole thing.  
“Who?”  
“Oh, Sherlock, really. I mean Lestrade. Can’t we call on him? He might be able to help us if this turns out to be serious.” I was certainly leaning on the side of Hamish’s lateness being something very reasonable to panic about. I was getting very fidgety in my chair and I could see that none of this was getting unnoticed by the detective across from me.  
“Not his division.”  
“What? Surely -”  
“Not until he’s been missing for at least twenty – four hours.”  
I scowled at him.  
“You’re not helping matters by telling me this information, Sherlock. I just want Hamish to be back home safely. I don’t know where he is right now and it’s starting to scare the hell out of me. I’d really appreciate it if you would put my laptop away and stop messing with that ridiculous woman’s phone so you can pay attention to what’s at hand here.”  
Sherlock paused for a moment to study me before he obeyed my instructions by sliding my laptop away and placing the phone carefully in his breast pocket. He’d been keeping a close eye on the device that evicted an inappropriate sound every time he received a text. It hadn’t made a noise for a few days and I could tell that he was beginning to scratch his brain for some answers in relation to this lapse in pattern.  
He cleared his throat.  
“I apologize, John. You’re quite right. This is serious.”  
“Yes,” I nodded. “Thank you.”  
As the minutes ticked by and my anxieties heightened, I was soon in full panic mode. I was pacing back and forth across the sitting room with my hands behind my back as I waited for the police to arrive. I had made Sherlock let me call the Scotland Yard with his only condition being that I couldn’t let Lestrade bring Anderson or Donovan in on the case. I was baffled at how easily his pride could be wounded, but I didn’t have any time to question his petulance.  
“Ah, yes, Ms. Hudson, I’m here to see John and Sherlock this evening. I’m sorry for waking you. Can I just – Yes, that would be lovely, but I really don’t want to disturb you. You should get back to – Okay, well, if you insist.”  
I watched as Ms. Hudson scuttled up the stairs in a floral nightgown, a bathrobe, and some bunny shaped slippers with Lestrade in toe. It seemed as if he had brought nobody with him, but I knew that there were other police cars parked outside the apartment building.  
The three of us waited with Lestrade still in the doorway, listening to the sounds of Ms. Hudson brewing a pot of tea. I finally broke the silence.  
“Greg, we think Hamish is in trouble. He’s been missing for three and a half hours now and we’re both very worried.”  
Lestrade glanced back and forth at us, really fixing in on Sherlock’s blank face. I knew that it looked bad on the outside, but I also knew that Sherlock was having a panic attack of his own on the inside. I’d grown to know him well enough to be able to see this.  
“Where was he supposed to be before you noticed his absence?” He asked.  
“With a friend . . . Kirsty, I think her name was. They have a couple of classes together.”  
Lestrade sighed as if we were missing some incredible point. I could practically feel this ruffle Sherlock’s feathers behind me in deep annoyance. He was suddenly standing next to me in the next few seconds with a look in Lestrade’s direction that could cut.  
“Hamish and Kirsty are strictly friends,” he said. “I heard him tell John this.”  
“Do you not expect that he’s lying to you and that this runaway is just an act of rebellion against his parents? What if he’s with Kirsty now and they’re doing things that would suggest that they’re not just friends? I can understand why you wouldn’t want to think in this direction, but at his age -”  
“No,” Sherlock interrupted. “I know that he’s not lying. He can’t lie in this household and he knows it. It would be foolish to try.”  
Lestrade pursed his lips.  
“All right. Fine. So he’s not with Kirsty anymore. Where could he be?”  
I was just about to intervene and suggest that we send out a search party for Hamish when a provocative noise pushed itself through Sherlock’s breast pocket. We both looked back at my partner as he took out the phone and checked for a message.  
“What does it say?” I asked when it seemed as if Sherlock wouldn’t open his mouth to share. He looked a little shaken if you asked me.  
But instead of reciting the text out loud, he handed the phone out for me to hold, which was surprising in itself. He hadn’t let go of the object since he had gotten it back over Christmas.  
I glanced over the text once with a fleeting eye because I was eager to get back to talking about a search party, but I was soon rereading it over and over again with an even greater alarm as the words sunk in. My heart stopped.

From: The Woman  
Too bad you couldn’t stop by for dinner, love. Your son will just have to do for company. Strapping young chap, I have to admit.


	2. A Looming Danger

-Hamish-  
I don't know how I survived being in the car with Benny behind the wheel and no seatbelt to keep me and the girl on my lap from teetering dangerously at every swerve. We had finally managed to arrive at some strange street I had never been down before. It was dark, spooky, and very dank looking. I could already tell that this was a place that I shouldn't be hanging around whether or not I was trying to escape my parents.  
I observed my surroundings with wide eyes as we parked and then filed out of the car. My hand was still gripping the empty beer bottle that I had chugged out of nerves and I could feel it when my classmate (I think her name was Jacqueline) scooped up my free hand and wrapped it around hers. I felt so uneasy in this place. There were too many empty buildings and not enough light for me to feel comfortable.  
"Kirsty, where are we?" I asked, still looking around myself. For some reason it felt like I was being watched. It was like we were all being watched by some invisible source. Could it be Mycroft and his men keeping tabs on my whereabouts? I sure hoped not because that would mean he'd tell my dads about this little adventure and they'd find me and drag me back home in front of all my friends.  
Kirsty sauntered up to me with a smidge less grace than usual. She smirked when she noticed how Jacqueline had taken my hand and I had not pulled away.  
"I'm going to take you to some place special, Hash," she said. "I know how suspicious you get, but you're just going to have to trust me on this one. It's going to be fun, I swear."  
I wanted to trust her, I really did. I didn't want to be the one to opt out and make everything difficult for everyone. I hated to be that guy, and I think she could see this in my expression because she added as an after thought,  
"You're probably going to need another drink before we get there. It'll calm your nerves."  
Kirsty reached behind her and stole a newly opened beer from a friend and handed it to me. I took it, and because everyone had their eyes on me, I gulped down about half of it in front of them. When I came up for air Kirsty was smiling up at me in approval.  
"Atta boy," she said, and then turned around to lead everyone across the pavement.  
\--  
Even with about two beers down me and a third one nearing up on me, I didn't feel one-hundred percent okay with this whole plan.  
The six of us were sneaking into this building that had apparently been a barber shop about six months prior. The stools and the sinks were still sitting around the building and broken mirrors were hanging on the walls, leaving shards of glass all over the white tiled floor. I tried to ease my hand out of Jacqueline's by pretending to be extra careful with stepping over the glass, but she only clung to me tighter.  
"What are we doing here?" I asked out loud, making a creepy echo throughout the room.  
"Shh!" Kirsty said. "You have to be quiet or you'll ruin everything."  
"Why?" Benny grumbled to the right of me. "I thought that we were going to a party or something."  
"Well, we ended up going to something. Now shut up both of you."  
We kept on walking after her as she preceded to move forward. The only sounds that I could make out was Benny's heavy breathing and the scratching of our shoes sliding across the glass. It was a little more than eerie, and I could swear that the notion of someone watching over us was growing stronger. I couldn't help it, I squeezed Jacqueline's hand back for my own reassurance.  
Ahead of us, I could hear it when Kirsty stopped in her tracks.  
"Kirsty?" I asked the darkness.  
"I found the stairs," she murmered. Apparently, she was closer to me than I thought.  
"Do we have to go up?" Jacqueline asked. Her voice surprised me because she hadn't said anything around me so far.  
"Of course we do. It's what we came for."  
"It's not what I came for," said Benny.  
"Yeah, this is kind of scary, Kirsty," Jacquline agreed.  
I could just imagine her scowling at all three of us in that moment. "Why don't you guys just shut up? This is way more fun than going to some stupid party."  
"Well, I'm not going up there."  
"Me neither."  
"Then the both of you can just go back to the fucking car like a pair of wimps. Hamish will come up with me. Won't you, Hamish?"  
I shrunk a little at the sudden turn of the argument. At first I couldn't think of anything to respond with.  
"Won't you?" she pushed.  
"Uhhhh . . ."  
I could feel Jacqueline's grip on me tighten even more, and for a second all I could think about was how clammy our hands were getting and how much I wanted to wipe it off on my jeans.  
"See? Hamish doesn't want to go with you either. You're just going have to go by yourself," Jacqueline said, speaking for me.  
"Fine! I'll go by myself. I don't need any one of you to back me up anyway. You'd all just get me killed."  
We watched through slightly more adjusted eyes as she whipped around from where she was standing and started up the stairs without us. We waited until her footsteps subsided and we were left in the silence. That notion I was getting from before about someone's eyes on my back . . . It was getting stronger. I suddenly didn't feel right about leaving one of us alone and unprotected.  
"She'll just get bored up there by herself," Jacqueline said to me when she tried to drag me back and found that I wouldn't budge. "There'll be nothing but junk."  
I shook my head and kept my eyes fixed on the direction that Kirsty had taken up the stairs. "This is weird."  
She managed a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're all thinking that, Hamish. I don't have any idea why she would take us to this dump."  
"No, I mean - " I cut myself off when I decided that I didn't want to explain this bad presentiment I was getting. "You two go back to the car. I'm going to follow Kirsty to make sure she's okay."  
I could finally release myself from Jacqueline's grip when I made my move for the stairs. I didn't want to waste any more time by standing idle at the bottom of the staircase and waiting for something bad to happen. With this in mind, I took the banister in my hand and put my foot on the first step.  
"You're crazy!" I could hear Benny call out from behind me before they turned around and left me behind. I couldn't help but hate him a little bit for not coming up with me. It was his girlfriend after all, not mine.  
I swallowed. There was only one thing I knew for certain in that moment.  
It was that, whatever was up there, I was not going to be even the least bit prepared for what was waiting for me. 

-John-  
"Sherlock, what are we going to do? Does this mean that she has Hamish?" I practically blew up the second I got my voice back. I was so scared that I didn't know what to do with myself except for shove the phone back into Sherlock's hands like it was on fire.   
It wasn’t long before I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I couldn't keep myself held up and I ended up hitting the wall behind me and sliding down in a hunch.   
Sherlock was soon squatting down at my side with his hand placed gently on my back. He rubbed his fingers across my exposed neck in a soothing manner as my head lay hopelessly in my hands. How could this have happened? Why did our son have to get involved with this case? My head was spinning with too many questions and dark thoughts. I was going to kill her when we found her. How dare she touch what was most precious to me.   
Still at my side, I could barely manage to hear Sherlock's commanding voice over my swimming thoughts.   
"What are you waiting for?" He snapped at Lestrade who was still standing uselessly in the doorway. "We've got to find him."   
I could hear it when Lestrade flipped open his phone and exited the room to make the phone calls back to the Scotland Yard. It felt as if they wouldn't be able to come fast enough. My heart was beating so quickly that I thought it just might give out and fail me at the most inopportune time.  
As if reading my mind, Sherlock's hands were on either side of my face in seconds, forcing me to look him in the eye.  
"John. Listen to me. We've got to be strong now. We're going to have to work with these people and answer their questions as clearly as we can before they can help us. After that -" he hushed his voice down a few notches so Lestrade wouldn’t overhear - "we can go out looking for him ourselves."  
I looked at him for a few moments before I could manage a strained nod of the head. He tried to smile back at me, and I hoped he could tell how much I appreciated him for remaining calm. I leaned forward and we shared a swift kiss before I let him help me back up on my feet. He handed me the cup of tea that Ms. Hudson had made for us about five minutes ago and I sipped at it as we waited for Lestrade to return to us.   
"More of us are on our way," he said when he came back with his mobile still in hand. "You better be ready to answer a lot of questions."   
I let my eyelids flutter closed as I mentally prepared myself for the process that I was going to have to go through. I'd do anything if it would only bring Hamish back to me.


	3. Cornered

-Sherlock-  
The officers were being ruthless with John. It made it exceedingly difficult for me to avert my eyes from him and to focus on what was happening around me. I wanted to shove his jacket into his arms and whisk him away from the scene at the flat so we could investigate on our own. I could observe that he was just as desperate to leave as I was by the way he kept folding and unfolding his arms (restless), how he swallowed faster than saliva glands could replenish (he would need a glass of water before we left), and, of course, how he kept glancing about the room just as if he was wishing he could be anywhere but here. I knew I had to swoop in and save him from the insensitive brute that was cornering him.  
“Obviously,” I said in retaliation to an inane question that I had only half listened to. “If our son had even given us a fraction of a hint as to where he was now, you can rest assured that we would never have called upon you incompetent subordinates in the first place.”   
I didn’t bother to pick up on the officer’s reaction to my commentary. I left him as I accompanied John on the other side of the room, letting him wallow in his own idiocy.   
When I reached my partner I noticed that he was still hung up on the questions about Hamish’s friends. Efficiency, I thought determinedly in John’s direction. We need efficiency, John.   
After a few short moments of waiting I couldn’t manage standing around anymore. I had to take John away from this place. I was starting to itch with the need to take things into my own hands.   
“Right. We’re heading off.” I cut the policeman off midsentence and pushed him aside so I could take his place in front of John. His shoulders were trembling as he looked up at me, his eyes slightly unfocused. I put my hands on those shoulders.   
“John?” I asked, experimenting. “Are you with me?”  
“Wha -? Oh, yes. Right. Heading off. Yes, I’m with you.”  
I stopped.  
Water. He needed water.  
Clear his head. John’s head needed clearing.   
I moved away from John.  
Water, glass, sink.  
No. Glass, sink, then water.  
Now.  
Hand glass of water to John and then give him his coat and then take him by his wrist and then shove a hovering Lestrade out of the way and then go down the steps of the flat and walk out the door and onto the busy street.  
Remind myself to let go of John.  
Help him put on his coat despite hearing him make a faint protest from miles away.  
My mind never felt so rushed. It had also never picked up on so little around me. It seemed as if I was being badly inflicted by the blindingly obvious.  
I stopped halfway through pulling up John’s collar as a fleeting thought dashed across my mind.  
Interesting. This must be what panic feels like. 

-Hamish-  
“Kirsty?” I called out, a little more anxious this time.  
I had been calling out her name, (albeit a little timidly) but it didn’t seem as if she was going to cut me a break and answer back. I soon realized that I was going to have to ease myself away from the doorway and wrench my unwilling hand from the banister.   
The room was eerily silent. There were boxes stacked up against the walls and piles of broken furniture lumped throughout the room that made it increasingly difficult to maneuver myself without stubbing my toe on the leg of a desk or something. It suddenly felt as if it was a very bad thing that I had very blatantly made my presence known in this confined space.   
I gulped. Where could Kirsty be?  
“Hamish? Is that you?”   
I whirled around from where I was standing to catch where my friend’s voice had come from. I soon realized that I couldn’t make my body move any more than that. Not until she called out to me again at least. I needed to make sure that it was definitely her.   
My heart shuddered when a draft from a cracked window blew right through my hair and grazed the skin on my neck. It felt like an eternity before she called out again.  
“Hamish? Could you come over here for a minute? I – I need to show you something.”   
There was a slight tremor in her voice that made me immediately step forward.  
“Kirsty! Are you hurt? Tell me where you are,” I said.  
“Uh, yes, that’s right. I’m hurt. I’ve hurt myself pretty badly. I need you to come over here,” I could hear her body shift somewhere to my left. “I’m behind the largest stack of empty boxes by the window.”  
I turned again and forced my eyes to work properly in this dead darkness. I could make out a shape in the corner that was possibly big enough to hide a person behind it and I rushed towards it without a second thought. There were so many ways to accidently hurt yourself in this room that I didn’t doubt Kirsty for a second.  
When I reached the boxes, I found her body crumpled on the ground with her back just barely leaning on the stack behind her. Her head was dipped low on her chest and she was cradling her right arm on her lap like it was broken.   
I had no time to think.  
I swooped in to join her by her side. My hands were on her face so I could lift her eyes to meet mine and so I could swipe away the hair that was sticking to her lips and forehead. Brand new bruises were already forming around her eyes and nose, and there was blood gushing from her head all the way down her face.  
“What?” I whispered, terror stricken. “How could this have happened to you?”  
It was impossible. This was much worse than if an object had fallen and crushed her. I quickly looked around myself with my hands still holding up her face and noticed that there was also no evidence around me that something had fallen. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This couldn’t be an accident. This had to be –  
“I’m so sorry, Hamish.”  
Kirsty spoke suddenly and I could hear the strain in the attempt.  
“No,” I said softly. “There’s nothing to be sorry over. You’re hurt.” I hoped I was masking my shock enough so that she wouldn’t feel as scared as me.  
“Yes there is. And I’m sorry.”  
“Stop it. You don’t know what you’re saying.”  
She ignored me.   
“They were threatening my family. They said they would kill them if I didn’t.”  
“What? No, no, no, Kirsty. Stop. Just keep calm and don’t drain yourself. I’ll get you out of here where we can find help.”  
I made a move to turn her body in a different direction, but she gasped at my touch. I retracted my arm and watched with wild eyes as she continued to take shallow intakes of breath and sob in front of me. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes and blended in with the fresh blood that smudged her skin.   
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried.   
I didn’t know what else to do besides engulf her in my arms and let her cry on my shoulder. She let herself lump against me and shiver like a frosty breeze had just swept by her.   
I wished I knew what she was tearing up about, but she refused to make any sense when I asked her. She seemed to be delusional and I thought that maybe she had received a head injury from whatever had hurt her.   
“I’m going to get some help,” I said. “Just sit tight, okay?”  
I tried to get up and move away from her by gently pushing her back against the boxes. She was so consumed in her tears that I thought that she wasn’t even going to notice my disappearance, but as I slowly began to rise from my sitting position her hand shot out and grabbed me from my lapel. She tugged me back down and brought me so close to her face that my mouth could have brushed across her glistening cheek.   
“You can’t leave me. You have to stay,” she whispered fiercely.   
“But you’re hurt, Kirsty. I have to get you safe,” I said.   
“No, this isn’t about me. This is about my family and keeping them safe. I’m sorry, but this is the only way,” she said.  
I immediately yanked myself out of her grip.   
“What are you talking about? Why do you keep mentioning your family?”  
“Because,” she said, in obvious torment. “Her people threatened their lives unless I did them a favor.”  
“Who? What people? What favor?” I asked frantically.  
“She told me that you would know who she was. She said that you -” she hiccupped back a sob – “had meddled with the wrong woman.”   
My stomach dropped. I suddenly knew exactly what she was talking about.   
Of course. I was standing right in the middle of a trap. This was a set up and Kirsty’s injuries were only a mere distraction for what was about to come. That must have been why she kept apologizing to me over and over again.   
No wonder her cuts and bruises looked so unusual. They must have been done by a human.  
A human that was probably still up here with us, lurking in the shadows.  
“Oh God, Kirsty,” I said.  
Her face crumpled when she saw the realization on my face.   
“I’m sorry,” she said again.  
I bowed my head. There was nothing left to do but suppress my fear and wait. Wait for what was no doubt seeing this as a golden opportunity to strike me.   
I held my breath.


	4. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish is in a tight spot.

-HAMISH-  
Blurred colors rotated behind my eyelids when I woke up from a very deep sleep. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but by the way my body seemed to still be rooted in fear, I gathered that it couldn’t have been more than four hours.   
Just from touch I knew that I was lying on a very luxurious bed that had an almost endless amount of pillows. They must’ve been stuffed with something as glorious as angel hair because the first thing I wanted to do when I woke up was turn over and press my face into them.   
I quickly realized that this was not an option when I tried to roll over and a pair of restraints attached to my wrists and ankles twisted my skin in all of its leather. I swallowed a yelp of surprise at the sudden pain that shot up my back when I moved too, and I was forced to realize that I must have been injured from the attack in the attic. I wondered how bad it was and what they had done to Kirsty and whether she was okay or not. A moan escaped my lips at the reminder of my friend strewn across the floor, broken, bloody, and sorry for me. I didn’t care if she betrayed me – she had been my friend for most of my life and I would never be able to stop caring about her.  
“Ms. Adler! The boy’s waking up.”  
A woman’s shrill voice was the first thing I heard as my eyelids fluttered open. A chandelier on a patterned ceiling was revolving in circles above me and it was all I could do not to throw up in my mouth and choke. I felt so dizzy all of a sudden that I could hardly process all of the data I knew I was supposed to be collecting upon first impressions. My father, Sherlock, put it to me many times how important it was not to let yourself try to rationalize what your senses were telling you before you could let them fully develop. But at the moment all I could tell was how groggy I felt waking up on this cushioned bed and how annoying that woman’s voice sounded in my ear.  
Pretty soon, after the woman had stalked off in her ridiculous heels, I could make out other noises. I turned my head to the right of me where I could see a well kept phonograph whirring away with only a slightly scratched record spinning inside of it. No music was coming out of it, so I supposed that nobody had bothered to turn it over.   
I looked around the room I was trapped in and noticed how well furnished it was with the elegant armchairs, the magnificent wardrobe, the looking glass in the corner, and the realistic paintings of old London and Oxford College on the walls. The room was also full of light from the enormous French window directly opposite the bed I was occupying. With all of the yellowing morning light that was ghosting up against the billowing curtains I almost felt as if I could be asleep at home dreaming. I swallowed hard again at the daunting thoughts that crept into my mind when I thought of whose house I must be in.   
And sure enough, only about a minute later, I heard two pairs of high heels coming up a flight of stairs and then down the hallway towards the bedroom. It wasn’t long before I found myself staring back at the one and only ‘Dominatrix,’ Irene Adler with her redheaded escort by her side.  
She looked strong with one hand on her hip and a glass of what must have been brandy raised in the other, but she also looked seductive in her navy blue dress that cut dangerously low at the top. Her eyes studied me from afar, calculating and judgmental, not unlike my father’s.   
“You can go now, Kate,” she said without taking her eyes off of me. I had tried to push myself up on the pillows as best I could so I could join in on this staring contest of hers, but I was pretty sure that the effort didn’t do much for me under all of these restraints.   
When Kate had left us alone together, Irene walked over to the bed in silence. I watched her carefully as she approached and then moved to fix the phonograph next to me. I was surprised by the movement and accidently flinched away from her, which I saw made her smile.   
“Where’s Kirsty? What have you done with her?” I demanded.   
“I told Kate to keep turning this record over,” she said in way of reply, “but that girl never listens to me. This has always been one of my favorite songs and I just thought I might share it with you because you seem so keen on sharing everything else with me. Like my secrets, my money, and my business with your father, Sherlock Holmes. This morning I thought to myself, what’s one more little tidbit of information, hm?”  
“Tell me what you’ve done with my friends,” I seethed just as the music started playing.  
“Francoise Hardy.”  
“What?”   
“Le temps de l'amour by Francoise Hardy, 1964. That’s my favorite song and it’s playing for you now.”  
I blinked at her in exasperation. “I don’t care about your favorite song, Ms. Adler. I just want to know if my friends are safe.”  
The woman looked down at me with pitying eyes and an annoyed sigh. She sat down at the very edge of the bed and ignored the way I tried to scoot as far away from her as the restraints would allow me.   
“You’re not going to be very fun, are you, Hamish?” She said. “Damn. You remind me so much of both of your fathers, I have to say. You’ve got that sharp eye of my darling Sherlock. I could see it the second I walked into this room. Hm. I bet you could tell me a thing or two about myself and Kate that we didn’t even know . . . Maybe we could save that for a bit later, eh?” She nudged my shoulder and I did my best not to flinch. “But don’t you worry, little one. You’ve got some of John in you too. Determination, by the looks of it. Oh, and damn if I couldn’t tell how badly you mask your fear underneath all of that bravado. Men are so full of it. If you were a young woman and not destined for such idiocy, then I would warn you right now to swear off of them because they’re only fun to misbehave with. If only there was a way for you to be salvaged from such a terrible fate . . . Hm. Anyway, you must be hungry, yes? Why don’t the two of us have dinner and we can have a good talk about how you nearly destroyed me and whether or not I’m going to forgive you for it? This will certainly be interesting, I should think.”  
Irene Adler promptly lifted herself off of the bed and pressed down all the folds on her dress before she clicked away on her heels. She left me with a wink and the closing of the bedroom door just so I could be left to think about what she had said to me. And I did. I thought about what might happen to me in this strange household, what might have become of my friends, and what my parents must be thinking right now. I was worrying about this all while that stupid French song was playing in my ear. 

-JOHN-  
My heart wouldn’t stop racing the whole time I followed Sherlock down the streets of London. A new rush of adrenaline seemed to overtake the last one at every corner we turned, but at some point I had to ask Sherlock to stop and explain what we were doing.  
“Sherlock! Stop for one minute. I’ve – could you – I need you to explain what – just stop moving so fast!” I was completely out of breath by the time he finally whipped around to aid me. He went back to take my hand in his, but he kept us moving in a brisk walk down the sidewalk like he didn’t want to waste any time. I was certainly used to running around with him on cases, and I was no stranger to the feeling of panic – it was just that I think we were both experiencing a sense of pureness to this stress that was chilling us to the bone. It caused Sherlock to want to keep his mind playing with every possibility and his legs flying across the concrete with such speed that even I couldn’t keep up with him. Out of everything though, I just really wanted to hear what he was thinking and what hope his brilliant mind was churning out.   
“It all has to do with Kirsty,” he said next to me. “I knew there was something different about her from all the rest.”  
“We’ve never met the girl!” I exclaimed. “How could you tell if there was something different?”  
“That’s the difference, John. Don’t you see? She knew my profession and she never made an effort to meet us at the flat because she was too scared that I would see right through her. Every one of Hamish’s other friends was eager to meet us because our work is all over the papers. She didn’t want to meet us once and yet she has always been one of Hamish’s closest friends. How does that look to you, John?”  
“Far – fetched?”   
“No, there were other signs, too. There was that night precisely three weeks ago when Hamish had gotten off the phone, disappointed. He wouldn’t talk about it, remember? I knew what it was because the shopping bag he had brought in earlier ended up in the bin only a couple hours later. He was obviously planning on having people over for a study session – for whatever reason, I can’t think of anything more unpleasant that having other people clustered around you while you work. He had taken out all of his textbooks from his room and he had bought sweets in that shopping bag, considering the artificial smell that was eroding from it. But as soon as he had got off the phone he brought the books and the shopping bag into his room and didn’t come out for hours afterwards. Clearly, John, Hamish had been on the phone with Kirsty hoping that she would come over to study, but she refused him because she didn’t want to come face to face with me.”  
“He could have been talking to any one of his mates, Sherlock,” I said.  
“Wrong. Males talk differently when they’re talking to females. You used to have a certain voice you used on every one of those females that you went out with before me. And it couldn’t have been any other person than Kirsty because she’s the only female at his school that he considers important enough to invite over to the flat,” he said.   
He sounded so convinced of himself like he always was, and usually I just blindly followed him when he went on these wild explanations that only made half as much sense as I wished they would. This time though, I wasn’t sure whether his mind was slightly influenced by worry over our son’s wellbeing or not. What he was saying didn’t sound like much to me. Not like it usually did.   
“That still doesn’t sound like enough evidence to prove anything, Sherlock.”  
He threw my hand back down to my side and strode in front of me, giving me a fright. I almost had to jog to keep up with him.  
“I’m sorry if my reasoning isn’t up to par with your usual high expectations,” he said, almost fuming. “It’s all I’ve got.”


	5. On the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock thinks he has a lead to Hamish.

-SHERLOCK-  
John and I had only been out scouting the streets of London for two hours and the disturbing rays of morning light were already creating elongated shadows in the city. I kept us tucked in close to the sides of the buildings and had us rush through all of the alleyway shortcuts I had memorized until John was huffing and puffing behind me and we had to take a quick break before we continued. He kept quiet behind me after our sudden argument on the street, but I could feel the doubt radiating off the heavy thud of his footsteps and the way he was scratching the back of his head at every corner. I was fully aware of how lost John was feeling as he swept the streets behind a blatant showoff that was evidently getting them nowhere. The faith he had in me was fading, and that made my heart pound hard against my ribs because I didn’t want to be confron –  
“You don’t really know where you’re going, do you? Sherlock?”  
Reluctantly, I turned around just before I was about to make another turn down a deserted alleyway where we would have only been met with more dank puddles and overflowing bins.  
John looked exhausted just a few yards behind me. As he lumbered closer I could make out the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, the paleness in his cheeks from fear, and the militaristic stance that he had resorted back to since we had left the flat. It was the only thing that was keeping him from toppling over out of weariness or distress - I could see it. He was doing an almost excellent job at not feeding into the place where his heart was surely headed, and instead was letting his core take care of the emotions that must have been trying to eat away at him all this time. For a second, as he took his final steps towards me, I saw a little bit of myself in him, which nearly killed me. I’d never wish it on my fondest enemies or my least favorite humans.  
“Where the hell are we?” He asked, looking up at me.  
I didn’t answer him.  
“Christ. At least tell me that we’re not lost. We have to get back to the station to see if they’ve got any leads on finding our -” he paused to press his palm into his forehead and to take a deep breath. “I can’t even say it without – Damn it, Sherlock! Our son is missing and we’re running around like we’re playing tag. What if something terrible has happened to him and we don’t know it? He could be in such danger and we’re just muddling about on the wrong side of the city! Who knows where Hamish could be. It’s wrong. It’s all just so wrong and I don’t think this is sinking in for you, which is making it all the harder because I’m starting to feel very alone in this with you charging ahead pretending that you know something when you clearly don’t. Oh God, what’s going to happen to this family?”  
“John,” I said.  
“I can’t deal with any more of this. Let’s just get a cab back to the station where we might be able to help. It’s ridiculous being out here in the cold where no one knows where we are. Now I’ve had a terrible thought. What if Hamish has come back from a late night and now he’s the one that’s worrying about where we’ve gone off to?”  
“That’s not what’s happened.”  
John bawled his hands up into fists. “Oh? And what makes you so sure that the worst has come to the worst?”  
The two of us were now standing in a particular alleyway, which I had originally thought was just going to lead us out onto the street beside a rugged apartment complex. It was true that I hadn’t really had much of a clue as to where we were headed off to, but now I was sure that I had been subconsciously following a pattern that I had been marking up as simply curious.  
It was a fairly quiet and unpopular street that we were occupying. So unpopular, in fact, that shops and services went out of business because hardly a soul would walk their dog down the street. Obviously, from what I had learned from some of Hamish’s frivolous midnight sneak outs, this place was only interesting to teenagers who were daring enough to explore. If John was awake enough to see, he would have noticed all the broken beer bottles strewn around the gutters and even the end of finished blunts that were impossible not to trod on. My pattern had taken us here.  
It had been two minutes since we had left to flat to explore that I began noticing the telltale signs of a horrendously bad driver. A normal person would have ignored these skid marks on the road and the wide U – births they had taken, but I had secretly taken note of what it truly meant.  
Unlike this lowdown and unknown street we were standing idly in, the street where our flat stood was a popular one that was usually full of commotion. That makes for traffic and the bottleneck effect that drivers get when they are trying to get onto the main road. The only accidents that tend to happen are parking incidents because everyone is going five miles an hour, which means that there is no room for speeding or U – births. The only way that would have happened, and I had not seen the skid marks the day prior to Hamish’s disappearance, was if someone, probably under the influence and driving in an inadequate hand-me-down car, was driving at the dead of night. The time of which Hamish had gone missing. Interestingly enough.  
I had been keeping track of the skid marks on every road that we met, observing that they popped up more frequently than not, which told me that the driver was more than a little drunk. It seemed as if whoever was driving was either in a rush or they were severely nervous – perhaps both. I had no way of telling what I was feeling as soon as I noticed that the skid marks halted in front of a dead barber shop that had every one of its windows broken in. More importantly, I didn’t want to frighten John by revealing him my theory on the pathway to Hamish’s whereabouts, or give him any glimpse of hope, in fear that my mind was playing tricks on me. I’d have to keep him in the dark until I was satisfied or he figured it out on his own.  
It was clear at this point that John wasn’t going to listen to anything I decided to say, so instead of inviting him along, I lifted my chin, fixed the collar on my coat, and headed off in the direction of the barber shop, only secretly hoping that he would follow me.


	6. Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ultimatum is put to Hamish.

\- HAMISH -   
Dinner wasn’t served since Irene Adler had visited me in the bedroom. My stomach was rumbling underneath the thin sheets, and I had counted up in my head that it had been three hours (eighty – two plays of le temps de l'amour) since she had promised me food.   
Every time that Kate had come in to flip over the record I persistently asked her whether Ms. Adler had forgotten me or if she was just trying to teach me a lesson. She didn’t answer me even when I bellowed at her as loud as I could and shook my wrists through my restraints. All she did was slide open a drawer on the bedside table and pull out a knotted gag that was patterned with white and gold diamonds. She pushed it into my mouth so my harsh words were muffled, then, when she leaned back to look at me, she pressed a slender finger to her lips to remind me how important it was to be quiet.   
It was heard by me outside of the bedroom door, just after Ms. Adler had promised me food that she was having company downstairs in the dining room. She had reminded Kate in hushed tones that everything had to be perfect when they arrived and that she had no tolerance for any disruptions during the evening.   
Well, the early evening did eventually roll in as I could watch through the drawn curtains what time the light was telling me. I couldn’t hear anything happening from downstairs over the damned record that was playing in my ear, which I supposed was its served purpose. If I listened carefully enough I could barely make out the signs of a small commotion. I could hear the shrill greeting of a woman that was certainly not Ms. Adler, I could hear the sounds of laughter at a joke I couldn’t hear, and, if at all possible, I could understand the silences that were made when one person was speaking or when a serious subject was brought up. Hours went by as this dinner party went on, and I felt as if I was going to die on this bed if I didn’t get fed soon enough, but just as I was thinking of trying to use all of my muscles against the restraints for the umpteenth time, Kate walked in on me again.   
It was first time she had walked in while the record was still steadily playing. I lifted my head up from the pillow to stare at her approach and tried to foolishly say something against the gag. She smiled pitifully at me as she went to sit on the edge of the bed, like Ms. Adler had done before her.   
“She’s ready for you now, Hamish,” she said, almost maternally. She lifted her hand from her lap and stroked the side of my face as I lay motionless underneath her gaze. I found that I couldn’t blink while she withdrew her hand and began to untie me from all of the restraints.   
When she was finished untying me, she immediately wrenched my head back with my hair and looked me right in the eye. The pain made me speechless through the gag, and I was surprised by the strength of the skinny redhead.   
“You have nowhere to run to, right? There is no exit in this building and there are people everywhere who want to keep you inside, so don’t you dare try anything funny with me, right? Otherwise, there will be severe consequences.”  
I nodded at her warning and let her pull me up by my shirt from the bed so that I could stand. At first, I was a little wobbly on my legs because of the lack of exercise I was getting, but Kate dragged me along until we were standing at the edge of the staircase. My back ached and I knew that there would be bruises to look at, and my head throbbed like nothing I had ever experienced before, but Kate just shoved me in front of her and kept a tight grip on my shirt as she guided us down the stairs.   
When we got to the bottom of the staircase I noticed that there were some pretty big men dressed in sharp, black suits standing in front of every window and exit of the room. My initial thought was that the security was probably a little too much for one teenage boy, but then I realized that the people who were being served in the dining room were probably paranoid and wealthy criminals who all thought that they needed the extra protection. My insides ceased up at the squashed chances of my escape in this house and the longing to be at home, safe, with both my dads was stronger than ever before.   
Kate walked me through a pair of enormous and incredibly ornate double doors that reached all the way to the ceiling. My hands were folded behind my back and she still had her hand firmly gripping the back of my shirt, but it was the gag that made me feel really degraded in front of all the eyes that fell upon me in the dining room. Ms. Adler was sitting at the head of a long table with a line of other important looking people all dressed up in fine clothing on either side of her. A fire crackled behind her and in her right hand she held a tall glass of red wine that she sipped from when she studied me from the feet up.  
I knew that I looked rugged because I had been falling in and out of sleep in her bed upstairs. It was either that or keep straining to hear what was happening over the music, and the latter was driving me insane.  
Knowing myself and how restless I was in bed, – I’d had nightmares since I was a little boy – I was sure that I must have looked completely out of it to all of the onlookers. My dark hair stuck up in every direction, my face looked white as a sheet, and my body, no matter how hard I tried to make myself look bigger like John, always looked especially lanky after a good sleep. I felt as if my eyes were only half opened as I tried to look back at all the others that were clearly scrutinizing me and my appearance.   
“Kate,” Ms. Adler said suddenly. “Bring the boy over to me.”  
I felt everyone’s eyes follow me as Kate pushed me forward and brought me to the other side of the table. Soon, I had a full view of everyone’s faces and all of the expensive diamonds and watches that they were adorned with. I couldn’t help but sneer a little at how stupid they all looked when they were all together. Ms. Adler caught the look.  
“Don’t sneer at us, love. It doesn’t do much for your pretty face.”  
I wanted to spit out my gag on her.  
“My friends, and those of you that I have just had the pleasure of meeting, I would now like to introduce you to the one and only Hamish Watson – Holmes. He is none other than the son of our greatest provocation, Sherlock Holmes, and we are delighted to have him as a guest along with us tonight.”   
I began out a growl of unhappiness next to her, but felt the sudden stab of something incredibly sharp prodding into my back, turning my growl into a whelp of surprise. Ms. Adler stood up from her seat and raised her wine glass in one hand and put the other to the back of my head where she wove her fingers through my curls. It was all I could do not to shake her off and take whatever lethal object Kate was pressing through my shirt.   
“Let’s have a toast for our newest guest, Hamish Watson – Holmes, shall we? He has certainly shown us what fantastic abilities he must possess to put our jobs and safety on the line alone. He’ll certainly give us some good fortune by playing on our side. So, let’s raise our glasses and drink to Hamish.”  
Shocked as I was by her words, I could barely get my mind to react appropriately when Kate’s sharp object stabbed me harder as her foot kicked me behind the knees and forced me to my knees. I could hear the cheering and the laughter from around me when Ms. Adler pulled my head back with my hair, Kate tore the gag out of my mouth, and the wine from her glass was poured all over my face and into my gaping mouth.   
Ms. Adler had seemed to enjoy the attention so much that she put the glass back down on the table and grabbed the whole bottle of wine and emptied the rest of it on my face. I was gasping for air by the time the bottle was finished and I had downed at least a quarter of it. It felt as if the raucous laughter from the men and giggling fits from the women was closing in on me as I felt the wine burn my eyes and soak through my shirt so my whole chest was bare to everyone that was watching. On an emptied stomach the wine was already going straight to my head where it made the room spin and the voices meld together as one. I only ever drank when I was with my friends and I knew that I wasn’t going to be home until I knew that every trace of it was worn off on me, – not that the attempt would save me from being accused of drinking by my father – so the intake of wine was a shock for my system. I moaned out loud when I was brought to a standing position in front of the table once again where I couldn’t focus on more than one face at a time.   
“Why don’t you confess what you tired to do to ruin us, Hamish? If you admit it to us now we might be able to get over this hump in our new, all business relationship. We all know that you did it, but I think that we’d all like to hear it come from your lips,” Ms. Adler said.   
Everyone around us cheered and hooted in agreement, clearly also having had their fill of drink and food. Deserts were set up in a fancy display of fruit tart, dark chocolate biscuits, and many rum infused cakes that made my mouth water. I couldn’t remember the last time I had gone so long without food.   
A smack to the back of my head made me wake up from my daydream and had me remember what had just been said. I tried to clear my throat, but I ended up having a coughing fit until my eyes were watering and Kate was hitting my back a little too ruthlessly.   
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” was what I finally choked out, which earned me another smack. “What I mean is, I don’t know what I’ve done exactly. I – I know what you think I did, um, with the money theft part, but the only part I remember doing is when I, uh, when I tried to get in on Ms. Adler’s case because it was really bothering my parents.”   
“Liar!” A man yelled a couple of chairs up from the end.   
“No, no,” I said, my voice slightly shaking. I turned to look at Ms. Adler. “I’m not lying. I’ll admit to finding out where you lived and breaking into your house so that I could steal your phone for my da – Sherlock and John. That was I was going to do, I swear. I don’t know anything about your money.”  
“You are lying, you thief. We have proof.”  
Ms. Adler whipped around on her heel and walked over to the fireplace where she picked up an envelope and brought it back to the table. She showed it around to everyone before she began to rip open, forcing me to wonder what proof she could possibly have in such a small container. That was, until she snuck her fingers between the folds and pulled out a familiar looking clump of dirty blonde hair.   
“You’re not – Are you fucking with me?” I said at once. “Where’s Kirsty? What have you done with her?”   
Ms. Adler smiled, sure of herself as she held up the small clump between her fingers. “You certainly can be quite slow when you want to be. I’m sure your fathers would be so very disappointed in you.”  
Everyone laughed as I visibly fumed next to her.  
“We all simply want to make an even exchange with you. One that I think every one of us will be content with.”   
“What? What is it?”   
“Well, all of us here know that you have found out about the conspiracy that we are under with a man that your fathers have just recently unearthed. Moriarty is his name and Consulting Criminal is the game that he is playing with all of us. What we are getting at, as you so eloquently put it, is that we want you to join us. We want you to become a player.”  
My heart was thrumming in my chest as the realization hit me. They wanted me to play on Moriarty’s side while my very own parents were trying to bring him down. They wanted me to help them defeat John and Sherlock Watson – Holmes.   
“I’ll never join your deal,” I said viciously. “I would never turn my back on my own parents.”  
Ms. Adler looked back at her audience and laughed along with the rest of them. When she looked back at me there was an evil twinkle in her eye.   
“We thought you would say that, love. That’s why we’ve come up with our deal. See this bit of your friend’s hair? She isn’t in our captivity, but all of us have put in the money to put her on our watch. She’s got people following her wherever she goes and we’ve got people pointing weapons in her direction day and night because we want to keep you in line with our plan. Darling, this is very important to us,” she said.  
“I still don’t what the hell you want from me! Why do you want me? Why do you have to put my friend in danger? She’s innocent in all of this.” It was hard to keep my voice from breaking under all of this pressure.  
“We want you to take the fall for the money thievery on all of our accounts throughout this past year,” a woman to the right of Ms. Adler’s chair leaned in and said. “We’ve all made fake names and extracted enormous amounts of money with our credit cards so it would look like someone’s tried to dip in.”  
“Yes, you see, Hamish?” Ms. Adler said. “We want you to become a criminal with us so you can be near Moriarty when he wants to get close to Sherlock. We want you to consult with him, and it’s impossible not to involve Kirsty’s life in this because we have to keep you close.”  
“Your planning is flawed. How can I be close to me parents if I’m a wanted criminal? I’ll be sent to jail like each and every one of you should be.”  
“That’s the brilliance of being shielded by one of the greatest men on the planet. He’ll keep you safe as long as you play by his rules. So, what do you say in all of this, Hamish? We’d really like you on the team, and I just have a little hunch that Kirsty would really like that too.”  
My mouth fell open at the question. I felt cornered and immobile in my current position, physically and mentally. I was scared for what all of this was going to mean because I loved my parents, but I didn’t want Kirsty to be in danger of a premature death because of me or anything else. I didn’t know what I was going to do.  
Ms. Adler could sense that my brain was about to implode from the lack of choices I had to turn to. As it turned out, she didn’t seem to care.  
“You have until the end of this evening to make your decision, Hamish. If you decide to join us, life will go a lot smoother and we’ll be able to return you to your parents. If you don’t, someone you know dies. It’s up to you to choose the fate. Darling.”


	7. Fear in the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock finally meet the reality of the situation.

-SHERLOCK-  
John and I went through the entrance of the barber shop together. The bell above the door still seemed to have its ring in check as John unpleasantly found out when he closed the door and the sound almost made him jump out of his skin. I heard him curse under his breath and then kick something out of his way, causing it to skitter noisily across the tile.  
“Sherlock, this is ridiculous. We should be heading back to the station,” he grumped.  
I didn’t answer him yet again, instead moving my feet across the gritty floor and feeling the stick underneath my shoes. There were at least four people here before us. One of them had to be our son as well. I could already see the scene forming before my eyes.  
“We’ve been out here for almost twenty – four hours, Sher -”  
But before John could say anymore, his phone rang from his pocket. I turned around to watch him pat himself down for a full ten seconds as he tried to frantically find where he put it. I stepped up to him, tall and impending, and reached between his jacket and shirt where his phone hid in a secret pocket. I pulled it out in a flash, flipped it open, and pressed the speaker to his ear for him to stutter in.  
“Um, h – hello? This is John Watson speaking.”  
I watched as his face took a new, serious element that I hadn’t seen since we knew for certain that Hamish was missing. He had been so wrapped up in worry that the task at hand seemed to have been fogged over with his fear, which had become an inconvenience for the both of us.  
He talked on the phone for less than a minute, and when he closed the phone to look up at me again, I could see how faint he had become.  
“John?” I asked, more than a little concerned.  
“That was a friend of Hamish’s,” he said softly. “Jacqueline? Do we know a Jacqueline?”  
“Focus, John. Just tell me what she said.”  
“I – she said that she was one of the last people to see Hamish before she found out that he had gone missing through the police cars that were arriving at our flat. She said that four of them had gone out to this very barber shop because Kirsty had taken them here.”  
“Kirsty. How obvious. She’s only seventeen along with the rest of them so there must have been some sort of sentimental motive to make her put Hamish in danger. Keep going. What else did she say?”  
He looked down at his shoes for a split second before he raised his eyes to meet mine again. I had never seen anguish like I had seen it on John in that moment.  
“She said that Hamish had gone after Kirsty up the stairs . . . over there,” he pointed behind me to where the lingering presence of our son hung in the air. “Jacqueline told me that she and another boy had gone back to the car because they were too afraid to follow them.”  
I put my hands firmly on his shoulders so that he was forced to keep looking at me. “What else? There’s something else.”  
“She said -” his voice broke and he had to try again. “She said that she and the other boy had taken the car and run when they started to hear screams coming from inside. Hamish’s screams. She said that it sounded like he was getting strangled.”  
I responded with immediate action, grabbing John by the wrist and racing us to the bottom of the staircase. From the back of my trousers I pulled out John’s gun that I had snuck out of the flat before we had left for the streets. I took John’s hand and placed it on his palm, closing his fingers around the hilt.  
“Stay down here while I take a look,” I told him.  
“That’s not happening,” he said, a hard expression taking over his face. He cocked his gun away from me then put his foot on the first step. “We’re going up there together.”  
  
-JOHN-  
I had my gun raised as the two of us made our way up the stairs and entered the pitch black room. Behind me, Sherlock pulled out a flashlight from his coat pocket and directed it at the ground so that we could see where we were going.  
The room was filled with junk that had been abandoned by the previous owners. It was the ideal place for teenagers to run off to and explore by themselves, and so I had to admit to myself that Sherlock had brought us somewhere in the end.  
“Hamish,” I called out, making sure that my voice relapsed to the ‘Captain’ I had once been back in Afghanistan. If he was here, I didn’t want him to know how truly and completely scared I was for him.  
“I smell iron. It smells like the last crime scene we were called in on,” I heard Sherlock say.  
“You mean the triple murder?” I barked.  
“No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. What I mean is that . . .” He trailed off.  
“Sherlock?” I asked.  
Nothing.  
“Sherlock? What is it? Have you seen something? What is it?”  
“I . . . Oh no. Oh, please no.”  
I ran over to where Sherlock had gone searching behind a mountain of boxes. He was standing, frozen to his spot and staring at the ground with his flashlight pointed directly at the floor.  
“What? What is -”  
I stopped myself midsentence as my eyes fell on the path of light underneath the flashlight. There, in perfect display for the two of us, was a long trail of deep red blood that looked as if it had already mostly dried. It speckled and smeared its way into a long trail that told us to follow where it went. I couldn't tell what it was revealing to Sherlock as he squatted down and felt the floor with the tips of his fingers, but it was telling me that whoever got clobbered so brutally had tried to drag themself to a safer place. I moaned out loud and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the nausea envelope my body like it had been waiting to do ever since the first moment panic had struck me.  
“John. This isn’t Hamish’s blood. Obviously, from the text that I had received back at the flat, this is all of Irene Adler’s doing. She wants Hamish for her own, and we both know that it isn’t her way to bleed the ones she wants. The ones that she doesn’t want on the other hand . . . Well, I think we can both agree that this must be Kirsty’s blood.”  
Sherlock stood up once again so that he could wipe his hands one at a time on his coat and then turn around so that he could face me with the flashlight. I wanted to feel better by his definite words, but for some reason I couldn’t get myself out of the sudden rut I found myself in. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, and I certainly couldn't make myself look up at Sherlock who was now moving towards me. I was only vaguely aware of how much my shoulders were shaking and that dry tears were making my face ache.  
Sherlock’s long, reassuring hand made its way to the side of my face and lingered there for a few seconds before it moved to the back of my head and pulled me towards his chest. I let all of my weight sink into him as I tried to get my breathing under control so that we could move on and find our son. Our son. Why did that term suddenly sound so distant to me?


	8. The Lesser of Two Evils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish makes a choice to save his friend and his reputation.

-HAMISH-  
“What do I tell them?” I asked, my voice thick with the tears I was trying to hold back.  
I couldn’t bring myself to meet anyone’s eyes as they all stared at me. A prickling sensation at the back of my neck told me that Ms. Adler was giving me and her audience the smuggest smile she could pull on her twisted face.  
I felt sick to the stomach at the mere reminder of what I was agreeing to do for these people. It was horrible, and such a sadistic act on their part that I almost felt just as evil for joining in on their plan, even if I was forced to make the decision.  
Ms. Adler put her hand on my shoulder. I was taller than her, but her presence and the way Kate’s blade was suddenly pressing into my skin again made me feel much smaller.  
“I think that we can all agree that telling them anything won’t be necessary.”  
“Why?”  
Ms. Adler’s cohorts tittered in their seats with several knowing smiles and greedy gulps of wine. I didn’t have enough energy at this point to even try to deduce what they were getting so giddy about. They all thought that they were being so clever by dangling me, a seventeen year old boy, like I meant nothing and everything at the same time. They needed me, and they were thrilled to find that they had successfully manipulated me into needing them back.  
“We’ve provided you a plan to follow. It won’t damage you much. I told my dear friend, we’ll call him Matthew, to go easy on you because it’ll be your first time,” she said.  
“My first what?” I asked. I had no idea what she was alluding to.  
“Hopefully this will just be a onetime thing. I always have to remind Matthew to take these things in moderation. He can easily get carried away.”  
“What are you talking about?” I was beginning to panic again.  
Ms. Adler looked behind me and nodded at Kate who took the knife from my back so that she could walk to the other end of the dining room. Everyone watched as she opened the enormous doors and stuck her head out into the open space.  
“We’re ready for you now,” she declared.  
As if this wasn’t already terrifying enough, a filthy middle aged man entered the room with us. He was unshaven with greasy, graying hair and walked with a slight limp in his left leg. Matthew, or whoever he was, wore baggy clothes that were almost in shambles – his shoes tracked mud and every end of the rain jacket he was wearing was frayed. I could hardly believe that Ms. Adler had allowed him into the house, feeling as if I was just starting to get to know her and the habits she was harboring. I was wrong, like always.  
Matthew limped up to us with a grunt at every movement he made. One of his eyes was very unfocused and I couldn’t tell if he was checking Ms. Adler out or if he was sizing me up. His presence made me feel very unsafe despite knowing that all the other people in the room were probably much more dangerous than a homeless man.  
Ms. Adler raised a single eyebrow at the man expectantly and he gave a grunt that must have meant something to her because pursed her lips in impatience.  
“Your side of the deal will come into play once you have proven yourself. I gave you the supplies, so now you have to hand over the product. It’s for the greater good. I can promise you that,” she said.  
My eyes flicked between the two of them as the man grunted and Ms. Adler stuck out her hand, waiting. He put a gloved hand into one of his giant pockets and riffled around until he had his hand around what he wanted and slowly pulled it out.  
“What’s that?”  
I was timid when I asked, but I knew exactly was hanging from the bag in the man’s hand. It didn’t take a genius to decipher what type of white powdered substance could be in the hands of Matthew the Homeless Looking Man. I wondered for half a second about what these people could have hanging over the head of a man like this, besides his obvious knowledge of narcotics.  
It wasn’t soon before long that I couldn’t stop my running mouth when all the questions started to bubble up like the champagne bottles that were still being shared across the table. I was asking about Matthew, what they were planning on doing with the illegal substance, whether or not anyone was going to hurt me, and if there was any chance at this point I could change my mind and go back. I was well aware of how desperate and cowardly I was sounding to the ears of the people who were watching the scene unfold before them, but I couldn’t help the fact that I was still just a seventeen year old kid who had started this evening with no plan of being held hostage. It was true that I was never any good under pressure, which was a trait that had come from neither of my parents. But it was also during stressful times such as this where I had no time to wish that I was just a little more perceptive like Sherlock or half as strong as John that I felt as if the weaknesses I tried to hide so desperately in daily life cracked through. People at school always said that your true colors shine when the time for action takes place in a desperate situation. I didn’t want to be the coward that the son of two consulting detectives never wanted, but there was no stopping it when I pleaded for mercy at the hands of Ms. Adler as I watched her pinch the cocaine out of the bag and line it up on the table.  
“Stop your whining and let us explain to you how this is going to work,” Kate said behind me. The knife was back as I felt the tip find its place at the center of my back. “Since you have agreed to join us for the sake of your friend’s life, you’re now going to have to follow the story we have built for you to cover up you’re tracks. We don’t want anyone to know that you have been here.”  
The line of cocaine just seemed to be getting longer and longer in front of me. I didn’t have to take many guesses to know what their brilliant plan for me was.  
“You want my parents to find me under the influence,” I said.  
“Under the influence?” Ms. Adler gave a short laugh which a few others joined her in on. “You could call it that if you’d like, Hamish.”  
I ignored the jibe. “What if I refuse? Can’t I just go back and say that I was out for a long time and never bothered to call?”  
“That’s not good enough, I’m afraid. You see, I’ve been keeping track of Sherlock for quite some time now, through all of the press in the newspaper and John’s delightful blog that he’s been updating. I’ve met him once, too, if you were curious. So, I’m sure, as his son, that you must know what kind of man Sherlock is and how simply stumbling back home after being missing for twenty – four hours won’t be a good start for us. We are very thorough underneath Moriarty’s protection because we want to ensure our security, and so you’re going to have to do exactly as we say,” she glanced up from her work on the table and put the bag down. “If you refuse to do what we acquire of you then we won’t hesitate cutting you off. Your friend will die and you’ll be exposed to the feds as a master criminal who has stolen money from the bank. It has already been decided.”  
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said. In fact, my mouth had grown dry and my stomach was churning uncertainly. I hadn’t eaten in such a long time, but it felt like I still had enough inside of me to heave up on her beautiful tablecloth.  
“Don’t you dare,” Kate threatened, stabbing the knife deeper into my back.  
“Easy, Kate,” Ms. Adler said. “We have to remember that this is a lot for one boy to take in.”  
Kate eased up on me a tiny bit, but the knife felt like a minor problem in comparison to what was whirring inside my head. But meanwhile, nothing around me seemed to stop getting worse because Ms. Adler continued to speak.  
“We’re going to keep in contact with you after today. You’ll get first notice tomorrow afternoon after you’ve had a good sleep, then you’re going to have to respond to us by doing exactly what the notice says. Under no condition will you try to contact us back. Do you understand?”  
“I – Fine. Yes. I understand,” I stuttered.  
“Good. Now I want you take a line with this.”  
Ms. Adler dipped two fingers in the low neckline of her dress and reached between her breasts where she pulled out a hundred pound note. I watched with lazy eyes as she curled it in her fingers until it turned into a skinny tube. If it was possible, I felt as if my body was feeding me an even worse drug through all the anxiety that was pumping through my veins.  
I took the note in my trembling fingers and tried my best not to meet anybody’s eyes as I leaned over the table where the white powder was lined up just for me. It took all of my will power not to shudder before I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to feel the knife hovering over me.  
“Get it over with, darling,” Ms. Adler said. I could almost imagine her crossed arms and the unhappy downturn of her lip while she stood behind me. It was almost worse having her leering over me where I couldn’t see her. “The quicker you do it, the sooner we’ll be finished here.”  
So I did. 

-JOHN-  
Sherlock and I didn’t follow where the trail of blood led to. At this point he and I had fallen back into the familiar sync we usually had when we were on a real case together. I was back to trusting whatever he had to say, and if he said that the blood wasn’t Hamish’s then I didn’t want to deal with another body if it was back there.  
We were back on the streets because Sherlock had said something about Irene Adler and had surged out of the barber shop without so much of a mutter under his breath. I tucked my gun safely away as a dutifully followed him down another alleyway that looked like another deathtrap, despite the withering blow my heart took at every new step forward. No matter how powerful Sherlock and I could look when we were together, there was still no doubt that both of us were dying just a little bit inside at the very thought of losing what was most dear to us.  
The thought had been so impossible to me only hours ago, but now that dawn was breaking through the heavy English clouds above our heads, it was beginning to occur to me that Hamish just might not show up at all.


	9. Love's on the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish is returned, but only under Irene Adler's conditions.

\- HAMISH –  
I was out on the streets with my hands free and Ms. Adler’s hand ruffling the top of my head. She was saying something in my ear that sounded like a load of rubbish to me, and I told her so. I could feel how wide my eyes had become and how much my feet wanted to shoot me off into the night where the homes were filled with sleeping people and their pets. I hadn’t been running since I’d quit cross country at school last year because all my classes had gotten too overwhelming, but I’d never felt the urge to feel the frostbitten chill of the dawn run through my hair like ever before. Everything around me looked brand knew through my eyes. It was like nothing had ever been touched and it was up to me to claim it all.   
At my sudden outburst of uncontrolled anger I half expected Ms. Adler to slap me, and I didn’t have enough time to reason with myself why I wanted her to do it so much. I must have said something about it out loud as well because she almost looked shocked. It stayed frozen on her face before it fell back into its usual default knowing smile that I had come to hate so much. I think I said that too.   
“You’re ready now,” she said, scuffing up my hair for one last time. Before we had left her home she had taken the time to undo a few random buttons on my shirt, fold up one of my trouser legs, and untie my shoelaces to make whatever I had gone through look believable.   
I was more sure than anyone about how much I didn’t want to be a part of this mental plan that had absolutely nothing in it for me. I was losing something every which way I decided to turn, but all I could think about now was how much I wanted to take off. I was already trembling on the sidewalk with an excitement I never knew existed. There was no helping the grin that was spreading across my face.  
“Oh, darling, just one more thing.”  
Ms. Adler was suddenly so close to me that I hadn’t time to jerk myself back before she lay a hard kiss right on the corner of my mouth. When she leaned back to look at me, her eyes were twinkling.  
“Don’t rub that off, okay, Hamish? That one’s for your daddy.”  
Then she gave me a push and I was running as fast as my legs would carry me. I ran with my feet pounding mercilessly against the sidewalk until my ankles were searing with pain and my throat was clogged up with the taste of iron. My body was screaming at me to stop moving, but I couldn’t stop going when the world was mine to take and rip apart with my hands. I felt wild as I whipped through the alleyways, knocked over rubbish bins with a clatter, and howled my name up at the gray sky. It had started to drizzle when I realized that I didn’t want to be so far down from the great expanse of the sky. I wanted to be up there with the universe, and I felt as if I could make it.   
I laughed to myself as I grabbed a hold of a gutter pipe that was bolted to one of the brick buildings. I didn’t have any idea where I was or why climbing this building meant so much to me in that second, but the knowledge that I was indestructible was more powerful than any damn wall that wanted to block my way.   
There was a rubbish bin that I rolled through all the puddles and lined up next to the pipe, not without noticing a pair of dark figures show up all the way on the other end of the alleyway. Out of my peripheral vision I could see each of them, one tall and one short, freeze for a split second before they began to tear down the alleyway with a speed that I had never seen before. I began to panic as their shouts rung throughout the alleyway and I found that I hadn’t even started to hoist myself up on the bin.   
My heart wanted to beat through my chest when my foot kept slipping on the wet plastic on the sides. I didn’t give up even as the two figures got closer and I was still on the ground, holding myself next to the stupid brick wall. I might have even screamed because I suddenly couldn’t think of anything scarier than getting chased down in a discarded alleyway with two strange figures with no face hunting me down. At every two second interval I took the chance of turning my head around to see what progress they were making across the sheen of the street. Watching them in glimpses only made it harder to breathe as the anxiety I was getting seemed to couple with whatever rush I was experiencing before. I felt myself scream again, like I knew I was about to get murdered.   
But the closer they got, the more I could understand what it was that they were yelling at me. I started to hear things like:  
“Hamish!”  
“What are you doing?”  
“Get down from there!”  
“Please! Please don’t hurt yourself!”  
I hardly realized what my body was doing while I was trying to maintain my fear. It felt as if there were two separate parts of me, and my body was away on some other sort of adventure while my mind was busy doing its best to relieve all of my initial spasms of panic. When I looked about myself I found that I was now standing on top of a teetering rubbish bin and my hands were clinging onto the pipe. One of my legs was bent and my foot was trying to find a good grip on the brick wall so that I could climb up. Eventually, when I began to see that reaching the height of the sky was impossible and that even climbing a pipe was too hard, I just hid my head in my hands and pressed my forehead against the wall. I didn’t hear it when the footsteps halted on the street beneath me, but it did filter through when the sound of John’s voice reached my ears, out of breath and strong.  
“I thought I was never going to see you again.”  
My body reacted on its own accord when the feeling of a hand tapped my leg and I immediately felt myself sinking down from my standing position on the bin. I knew that I was crying because everything around me was blurred and my chin only wobbled when I was really upset and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I felt exhausted as I slumped against the nearest promise of warmth and found myself stupidly doing that sort of silent cry that makes your whole body tremble.   
“We’ve got you now, Hamish. You’re going to be alright.” The deep rumble of Sherlock’s voice against my cheek was almost enough to turn my shuddering cries into outright sobs. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the safety of being with both my parents and how much I loved the feeling of John’s reassuring hand on my shoulder and the smell of Sherlock’s coat up my nose with every breath I took. I wanted this for as long as I lived, because in that moment it felt as if it was all I had and that I was all that they had.   
I scowled and gritted my teeth against Sherlock. I could hardly take the feeling of love that surrounded me while knowing that I was just going to betray them again under the hands of their worst enemy. The thought made me shudder, which of course brought a hand through my curls and another squeeze to my shoulder.


	10. Losing It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming home has never been so tough.

-HAMISH-  
I woke up gradually, but I didn’t dare open my eyes. I left my senses to pick up on where I was by the feeling of the mattress and the air circulating the room I had been placed in.   
There was no doubt in my mind that I was laying in my bed with the window cracked open and the smell of breakfast just beyond the barrier of my door. If I listened closely I could hear the sounds of the kettle whistling, the rustling of today’s paper, and John’s feet shuffling across the kitchen tile. I was far too terrified that one of my dads would walk in while my mind still wasn’t in the right place and they’d catch me unprepared and vulnerable. I was fully aware that half of the reason why parents were around was to mainly just see their child at their worst so that they could help them grow and to love them no matter what, but I could feel that my situation didn’t call for consolation on Ms. Adler’s subject matter. Suddenly, I had to be strong in different spots in my mind that I never thought I’d have to torment. I could only allow certain sections of me be weak, if only it would protect the ones I loved.   
I could feel the tightness of skin on my forehead and around my armpits where I must have broken out in a cold sweat in my sleep. I must have had some nightmares last night, but that wasn’t too unusual considering my lifelong habit of night terror. There wasn’t one night in the past that I can remember that hasn’t ended with me waking up with either my heart still in my throat or the dry crust of sweat on my skin. Needless to say, I was more than a little uncomfortable laying in my own bed. I tried to roll over on my side so that I could stuff my face into the pillow, but a tugging memory of restraints made me freeze in place. I could almost hear the sounds of le temps de l'amour play on repeat in my head. It was really fucking stupid that I actually thought that I could keep it together for one single moment.  
-JOHN-  
I hadn’t been able to leave Hamish’s side all night, shaking with my head in my hands and completely beside myself with a newfound worry. His face looked so troubled while he slept, like he was fighting a war in his mind, and I just wished that I could take away all of his problems so that he wouldn’t have to hurt himself.   
The moment that I realized that Hamish wasn’t all the way with us when we found him in that deserted alleyway with bruises on his wrists and tear streaks down his cheeks, was the same moment that Sherlock retreated within himself. He was still checking all over Hamish’s body for damage while we were catching a taxi home, but even through my skewed vision of relief I could see something had set from behind his eyes.   
Yes, I knew by that point that there would be no sense in asking Hamish what had happened to him judging by the distraught state he was in. Beyond that though, if I forced myself to see it for what it was, I could see that Hamish’s tears were elated and that his body was almost impossible to control as he nearly thrashed his arms about. Even the taxi driver had given me a pitying look in the rearview mirror.  
“John. You’ve been spreading that piece of toast for approximately four and a half minutes now. I think it’s ready to be eaten.”  
I glanced down in surprise at the sound of Sherlock’s voice to see that I had, indeed, been spreading the same corner of toast with strawberry jam until it had gone limp. Sighing, I let the piece of toast drop on the counter and rub my arm across my face. I was more than a little exhausted after so much unwanted action last night. The questions of what might have happened to Hamish after so much time kept me quaking in my boots, and the way I couldn’t even blink with my eyes on his bed only pointed towards how crazy the whole ordeal had made me. Sherlock had to finally drag me back to our bedroom so that we could get a least a couple hours of rest before the final, inevitable confrontation was going to have to happen. I dreaded it more than anything, but the need for answers trumped all of that. After all, mixing in with all of my concern and despair, I was furious with Hamish and the misguided decisions he must have made last night. And I knew that they must have been bad because Sherlock wasn’t saying a word about it, meaning that he wanted to leave it up to Hamish to tell the story.  
I vaguely heard Sherlock get up from his makeshift lab table behind me. I didn’t move in response until I could hear the sounds of hot water being poured and the clink of a teaspoon tapping the side of a mug. Sherlock handed me the cup of tea when I was ready to lift my eyes from the counter and I could take the steaming cup gratefully.  
“Thank you,” I said.  
Sherlock calculated my expression, though I knew that there wasn’t much to take in, then nodded shortly. There was something going on behind his blue eyes that I was too tired to try and explore, so instead I halfheartedly acknowledged that he would tell me about it soon enough. There really wasn’t anything I could do at this point. Not until Hamish woke up.  
-HAMISH-  
I was losing it. I could feel myself losing contact with my head and my body as the horrible memories of Ms. Adler’s chamber and all of her laughing cohorts swarmed in front of my vision. There was no way in hell that I wanted this to be my parent’s first reflection of me after finding me half out of my mind in an alleyway, but the feeling of suffocation was picking up too quickly and I didn’t think that I would be able to hold it in for much longer.  
All of the vows Ms. Adler made me swear to came flooding back along with the way Kirsty’s body had been mauled from underneath me in that attic. The memory of my best friend’s blood smearing the floor made me want to retch, let alone the question of whether she was okay after all of that trauma.   
At the reminder of all the influence I was under so that I could help Ms. Adler and her boss, Moriarty, do their dirty crimes, I was finally pushed over the edge. My chest tightened underneath the anxiety of what was to come, which constricted my breathing until it pulled me under what felt like a lake full of water. My hands were also cramping up in a way that made it almost impossible to move. The panic left me with nothing but my voice, so I used it to let out a broken cry for help that I only hoped my parents could hear from all the way in the other room. I wanted to die underneath all of the pressure that the enveloping panic filled me with, and all I knew was that I didn’t want to be on the bed anymore. I cried out again, barely registering it when my limbs tangled themselves in the sheets and caused my body to roll off the bed. It felt as if the world was ending as my heart thundered against my ribs. I couldn’t even hear or feel the moment when somebody’s hands suddenly grabbed my body and tried to lay me back down on the carpet. I was too caught up in the way the song le temps de l'amour was playing everywhere to even respond to the voice and the hands above.   
The voice was trying to reassure me and the hands were pouring water on my heated face - water that tasted a lot like dark, red wine. I cried out until I was moaning, I moaned until I was whimpering, and I whimpered until I was sleeping back in my bed again with the light shut off and the curtains drawn.


	11. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish has to face his parents.

-HAMISH-  
There was no way of knowing how long I pretended to be asleep after my panic attack. I kept falling in and out of consciousness after I was picked up off the floor and tucked back into bed by John. My eyes had been wild as they searched the room for something significant to hold onto that would remind me that I wasn’t back in Ms. Adler’s house. After accidently catching a glimpse of Sherlock standing in the doorway with one foot in and one foot out, I squeezed my eyes shut so that I could pretend that he hadn’t just seen me in such a state. I’d always felt as if I had to put on a face for Sherlock to prove to him that I at least had the potential to be clever and able like he was. As for John, he had always been the father I’d gone running off to when I’d botched everything up; making him swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell Sherlock. I’d grown a lot older since those years of intimidation had passed us, but all that meant was that I stopped telling John everything and that my underlying fear of Sherlock had subsided into white noise.  
It wasn’t that I didn’t love him. I loved him, I did. It was just difficult to live with someone who didn’t have to ask how your day at school went because he already knew by the way you walked up the flight of stairs. Some days, when it was just John and I in the flat, I would spend the whole time yelling at him. I would take advantage of an environment where I could spout out the ugliest things about Sherlock and know that I wouldn’t be agreed with or turned away. John listened to me no matter what, and when I had finished whatever rant about Sherlock I had chosen, he would always sit it out. I hadn’t had one of those rants in ages though, which could only mean that I was growing up or another one was brewing.  
I was well aware that lying in the bed for hours at a time with a constant boredom that was ready to make my head implode was no way to prevent the inevitable from happening. The inevitable being, I had to get up and face the day ahead of me. Face my parents, that was.  
My body was much calmer than it had been before. Now that I was fully conscious of where I was, I could push myself off the pillows and kick the sheets off my body so that I didn’t have to lye beneath my sweat. It was time to get a few things over with, and I knew that meant I’d have to move out of the comfort of my room.  
I was dressed only in the undershirt and boxers that I’d been wearing for the last couple of nights, so I stripped out of the filthy things and pulled on a much more comfortable pair of jeans, a t – shirt, and a gray sweatshirt. I tried to do everything in slow motion so that I could stall my time in my bedroom whilst thinking of excuses that sounded at least half believable.  
Since my panic attack in the morning and my nap, all the time in the day had seemed to tick by quite quickly, and it didn’t take me long to realize that it wasn’t just a couple of hours I had spent fretting in bed. I opened the door to my room just a crack so that I could peek out into the hallway for any signs of life. My room wasn’t in a particularly good spot for sneaking around because, as it was John’s old room when my parents weren’t yet together, it shared the same hallways that the bathroom was in. Not long after that the hallway opened up in the kitchen and the sitting room, which was usually where my parents were if they decided to stay in. I, on the other hand, spent most of the time with my friends after school or locked up in my room where I could be by myself.  
Holding my breath, I took my first step out into the hallway. I was going to make my way meekly into the kitchen, but my plan immediately changed as soon as I set eyes on the bathroom that stood with the door spread invitingly open. I was desperate to wash off all of the dirt and regret I had collected over the last couple of nights.  
I grabbed my towel from the back of my door and dashed across the hall so that I could close and lock the door behind me without any unpleasant surprises along the way. I felt as if I was a part of one of my favorite action movies as my heart thundered against my chest as I ripped off all my clothes and turned the shower on to the hottest degree. It was clear that I still on edge from the whole shocking experience and that I was only a beat away from another panic attack, but I knew how to calm myself down. Deep breaths and scalding hot water distracted me from relapsing back to a hopeless puddle on the floor. Instead, I soaped up every inch of my body and massaged my scalp with shampoo until I was free from all of the filth that had ever touched my skin. I felt much better as I stepped out.  
I dried myself off and pulled my clothes back on roughly, knowing that I was probably the closest to being ready for confrontation as I was ever going to be.  
I rubbed off a bit of the fogged up mirror with my sleeve so I could get a good look at my face. Mostly because I was scared of what I might look like in front of my parents when I came out. Obviously, there wasn’t a lot I could do with a face like mine. It was what it was when I woke up from a long sleep. My cheeks were pinched pink from the shower, my dark hair was laid flat down the sides of my face and forehead, and my eyes were, unfortunately, red rimmed. There really was no avoiding what had happened or what my dads probably thought of me at this point.  
My heart still betraying the courage I was trying to portray, I opened the bathroom door and padded my way down the hallway to where I thought my parents would be sitting up. I looked around from a safe distance and took in the view in front of me without once drawing in a breath.  
John was sitting with his back to me on his well-worn armchair where he was watching the news on such a low volume that I could hardly believe that he was really paying any attention to it. He had one elbow on the arm of the chair and his head was resting in the palm of his hand, probably keeping him from nodding off to sleep. Closer to me was Sherlock who was sitting at the kitchen table with his head ducked down as he focused his gaze on something unfathomable.  
The mere sight of the two of them almost made me cower back into my room where I knew it was safe, but I knew that it was wrong to hide in the face of the ones who loved me most. Okay, I told myself. Just walk out and do it. Show yourself and get the worst part over with.  
I walked out, secretly wishing that I had put on a more comfortable pair of pajama bottoms rather than jeans, and made sure I took the long way around to the telly. Sherlock didn’t look up from his experiment involving dishes of wriggling tadpoles and thin slices of red flesh, though I could tell that he was more than aware of my presence in the room by the way his back tensed. He didn’t stop me as I walked by and went towards the sitting room, though.  
Continuing on, I tried my best to be nonchalant as I walked around the armchair John was preoccupying and sat down on the rug in front of the telly. It was like I used to do when I was little and had a particularly terrifying nightmare that woke me up. Tonight eerily reminded me of one of those times, and so I replicated the moment without a bat of an eye, feeling as if it was only right in the moment. I had my clammy hands tucked inside my sweatshirt pocket and my eyes tiredly following the English news reporter as she ran around the scene with an umbrella. I knew that the moment wouldn’t last too long for all of us, but I still couldn’t help hoping that we would all get trapped in time so that none of us had to age or move forward.  
“Hamish,” John said from behind me. “How are you feeling?”  
I shrugged, not taking my eyes off the screen. The weather over in Surrey was rotten, like most of Britain. It made me wonder why all of the reporters we forced to take shots outside of the studios all the time when it was clear that the rain was just going to be distracting.  
“Hamish? Could you give me a little more detail? Are you thirsty? Hungry? Would you like a cup of tea?”  
The lady on the screen was trying to talk over the noise of a crowd of people who were apparently rooting for some bikers on a racetrack. Then an aerial view of the track came into focus where you could see a bunch of the bikers flying around the corners in all of their gear. Someone from Russia was in first place, another biker from the Netherlands coming in close second.  
Suddenly, the screen was shut off and I found myself staring off into blackness not really knowing what I should do. When I was little this was usually the part where my dad would tell me to join him on his lap so that he could tell me a tamer version of what he and daddy had done on the new case that day, making sure that I understood that I was safe as long as they were around. He would then hoist me up on his hip, tuck me back into bed, and plug in my backup nightlight we only used when I thought I needed it especially. Some days, when John had decided to go to bed early, Sherlock would be the only one up in the room. On those nights where I was too scared to go back to sleep, he would take a break from his experiments so that he could try his hand at comforting me. It was always a little odd because he tried to approach the situation a different angle every time. Some nights he would completely clear the kitchen table of all of his supplies so that he could bring out a puzzle and watch me try to piece it together by myself, while other nights he would hand me his precious skull and tell me to talk to it for comfort.  
Knowing that I wasn’t going to receive any sort of childlike comfort on this night made me stupidly sad, and I almost wanted to punch myself for being such a hopeless case.  
I turned away from the telly with my aching eyes and finally brought myself to look at my dad who was still resting in the position I had found him in. This time, though, I could see how worn out he looked. By the sag of his eyelids and the gruff sigh that was threatening to deflate his whole core, it made me feel terrible that I had done all of this to just one man. I hated to ask myself why I had made the original decision to interfere with Ms. Adler’s business.  
“Answer me, Hamish,” he said.  
I shook my head slowly. “No, I’m none of those things.”  
“Really? When was the last time you ate?”  
“Uh, yesterday . . . night.”  
“Good. I’m glad you think you can take care of yourself. Do you think you could tell me where you ate this self satisfying meal?” His voice had taken a sharp turn, going from neutral to fed up in less than two seconds flat.  
“I was with my friends. We ate out.”  
The truth was that I was starving my arse off. I was so ravenous that I could have eaten the focus of Sherlock’s experiment off a dish and licked it clean. But needless to say, the reality of the situation was that there was no way I was going to pluck up the courage to ask anything from them. No matter how necessary it was.  
“Oh, really? Who were these friends you ate out with?” He asked.  
“You know, the usual lot.” I had no idea how much they knew about what happened, but I certainly didn’t want to get anyone in any more trouble than was needed. I couldn’t just turn off that protective streak I had inside me.  
John finally made the first movement since I had showed myself. He sat up in his chair and looked down at me with an unimpressed expression that reminded me of the days when it had once made me squirm. It still had the same affect on me now as it had back then, but I was much better at hiding it.  
“I’m giving you one shot to tell me the truth here,” he said, his voice just hanging on the edge of snapping. “You have one shot, and then that’s it.”  
So maybe they do know some things about my disappearance, I thought. But there are some definite gaps to their knowledge.  
It was like a maze with quicksand waiting at every dead end. I had to be extraordinarily careful with what truths I chose to give and what ones I chose to hold back. I had already made the mistake of lying about feeding myself, because the doubt that rose behind my dad’s eyes told me that I was walking a very thin line. I was being given two chances and I had already blown one of them.  
“I was with Kirsty,” I said.  
“Was that it? Was it just the two of you?”  
“Um, no. I was also with her boyfriend, Benny, who you don’t know, and another friend, Jacqueline. Uh, you don’t know her either, I don’t think.”  
John nodded, so I knew I passed some sort of test with him. But the interrogation was far from over. By the way he told me to get off the floor and to sit in the armchair across from him, I could tell that it was going to be a long night.  
From across the room and into the kitchen I could hear the hasty zip of a bag and the snap of a lid, telling me that Sherlock was taking a break from his experiment to come over. There really was no room for lying or slip ups now.  
“I think you’re at the age where you should be able to understand what kind of mental torture you put us through the instant we sensed that something wasn’t right. It pains me to think that, as parents, we have failed you in some way to make you think that it was okay to jump off the maps like this,” John began, making my heart sink. I thought that we were going to have an all-out brawl together, which I would have been able to handle much better. But apparently this was going to be a sit down conversation where all of us had to be mature adults. I could already feel myself forgetting all of the good arguments and excuses I had played out in my head while I was faking sleep.  
Sherlock was standing behind John’s chair in his unassuming stature that left the two of them looking more than a little intimidating in my eyes. I shifted awkwardly in my seat.  
“Hamish. I want you to tell me what happened to you. What were you doing in that abandoned barber shop with your friends?”  
Unknowingly, John had given me the perfect segway out of the, at first, seemingly impossible situation. He had opened it up so easily for me that I almost wished that he had trapped me. I didn’t want to lie for Ms. Adler, but now I was going to.  
My eyes flickered to the ground where my feet were planted into the rug. It was my signature giveaway when I was under pressure and I knew that there was no choice but to fess up. Living in a household of detectives had barley taught me anything about other people, but it certainly showed me a thing or two about myself and my habits.  
“Uh, well, the four of us had gone out like normal, you know. At least I thought that’s what the plan was. It started out like normal with going out in Benny’s car and stuff. I mean, I don’t really know how it happened because I was getting – well, I was drinking a little bit. But we somehow ended up on that abandoned street with the barber shop on it.” I took a deep breath. “Kirsty said that she knew a guy that hung around those parts. She said that he sold her and her other friends drugs, and not the tame kind either. She wanted to go up there all by herself was the thing. Benny and Jacqueline didn’t want to follow because they were scared, but I didn’t want her to go up there on her own.”  
“So you followed her up?” John sounded bewildered out of his anger for a split second, and I regretted how naively stupid I sounded in the story I was telling.  
“Y-Yeah,” I said, licking my parched lips. “Well, by the time it had taken me to climb the stairs, the man she must have been talking about was already there. He had hit Kirsty and she was bleeding everywhere and he came after me the moment he laid eyes on me. I tried to fight him off, I really did, but he hit me on the back and knocked me out along with Kirsty. It must have been bad because I was out cold for ages.”  
“That would mean that you were knocked out for at least a day and a half. Is that even possible?” John inquired.  
“I, uh, must be because I was,” I said quickly. “Anyway, once I woke up everyone was gone. Not even Kirsty was alongside me. The only thing that was left -” this was officially the stretch in the story I didn’t want to take – “was the small bag of white powdered stuff the man had left behind. I figured it must have been part of his stash, but my back was in so much pain at that point that I would have grabbed at anything to take the pain away.”  
“You took crack cocaine to ease the pain in your back?” John intervened again.  
I winced at how crazy it sounded coming out of his mouth.  
“Yes, I was in a lot of, a lot of pain. So I took the drug and it drove me up the wall, which was how you found me. I was half out of my mind when we ran into each other.”  
“We noticed,” Sherlock said from behind John.  
It was the first two words I’d heard Sherlock say, and I could just feel the anger that was embedded in them. There was something dark that I couldn’t quite put my finger on that told me that an element of my story had struck a nerve in him. Looking over at John I could see where his mind was working a little bit faster than mine as his eyes widened in realization. There was certainly something of importance that I was missing, and the thought panicked me. Perhaps Ms. Adler was more aware of our family affairs than I had originally feared.  
“How did it feel when you were on the high, Hamish?” Sherlock asked me, surprising me with the emotionally pertinent question.  
“I – It was, I don’t know,” I flushed.  
“Tell me.”  
“It felt good? I don’t know. It was more of thinking that I could do anything I wanted and then not care.”  
“So you didn’t do it for any other reason?”  
“Not that I know of. Why? What’s going on here?”  
“You didn’t do it because you thought it just ran in the family . . . This was all you? No. This wasn’t just you, was it? There’s something else. Was it Kirsty who pressured you into thinking you had to? No. Was it even pressure?”  
Sherlock wasn’t speaking to me at that point, but more to himself as he turned on his heel and fell back on the sofa where he could shut his eyes and mutter to himself. I could feel the base of my story crumbling while John and I watched him press his chin into the steeple of his fingers. I don’t know why I thought my story would work, or why Ms. Adler thought so either, but now it seemed that I was getting pushed closer and closer to the deep end. And with that, Kirsty was too.  
“Actually -”  
“Hamish, the reason that this is particularly hard for your father is because he used to have a cocaine addiction. It was short lived, but any sort of drug addiction is serious, you know that.” John turned back to me, cutting me off.  
“I didn’t know any of that,” I said, honestly.  
“We know. He was just asking you those questions to be sure.”  
It was the first reassuring statement I had heard all night, and it made me fall into a slump on the armchair like a pile of rubble. I didn’t think that I could stand much more of this with Sherlock in the corner examining my story word for word, and John judging me from just a few feet away. What I really needed now was a turkey dinner laid out in front of me so I didn’t feel like I was about to faint. I was getting so desperate that I mentioned it.  
“Actually, could I have something to eat?”  
John nodded at me and left me sitting on the armchair as I listened to him preparing food in the kitchen and the sound me drumming my fingers against my knee as I took guesses at my own fate. I was more than tired of being in this idle position where everything around me was in control while I just had to patiently take the hit.


End file.
